


Glad Tidings

by beachkid (binz), binz



Category: Dresden Files (TV)
Genre: Community: df_rarepairs, F/F, F/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-20
Updated: 2009-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-07 13:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binz/pseuds/beachkid, https://archiveofourown.org/users/binz/pseuds/binz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin Morningway receives a visitor and some information.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glad Tidings

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Thomas's Birthday Challenge at the LJ community df_rarepairs. Thanks to Shiplizard for a critical eye in a sticky spot.

The day is bright for November, the ceiling of cloud unlimited and the sky as blue and bold and rich as summer. The skylights in the hall let the sun in to break into a scattering of white on the opaque windows of the study, thrown as dashes of light across the floor and the surface of Justin Morningway's desk. The lights glow on the thick cream of the paper Justin holds, highlighting the shades of purple and brown in the ink, and catch on the surface of his watch. The red wax of the broken seal pulls at the paper, the top bobbing, and shines from the inside when the light hits it.

Justin rubs at the signature at the bottom of the paper with his thumb, the ink smearing into a streak of black that fades away as the magic in the mark unravels and loosens into nothing. His fingers tighten on the paper as he reads, lips pursing together and thinning, and the sunlight reflects off Justin's glasses when he looks up. The curtains fall abruptly over the high, slitted windows with a twist of his wrist and a brushing effort of will. The low fire along the far wall brightens when the room goes dark, and Justin winces, turning to shove out a hand. A small burst of force looses from the ring on his second finger and smacks into the crouched figure by the fireplace.

The packed head of the servant golem cracks and showers down in a pouring of dried clay, glimmering as the magic loses form and disperses into the air. The creature's body follows its head, crumbling away, and leaves a small pile of grey dust on the hardwood, a piece of red yarn and two black buttons landing on top. A second golem approaches from the corner even as Justin calms his breathing. He watches it sweep away the clay of its fellow, and turns back to the note as the fire settles, falling back to embers that fill the room with familiar shadows.

Ancient Mai raises an edged eyebrow and reaches out to touch her fingertips to a lamp on the wall, flame flickering to life within and pushing away some of the dimness of the room. "Temper, Justin." she says. "Really, now. This can hardly be so unexpected. Am I to assume by that little display that the news is not to your liking?"

"A moment, Ancient." Disappointment, or something like it, tightens the skin around his eyes and mouth, and he carefully smoothes the paper onto the desk. He stutters a hand over it, patting and pulling away, and walks around the desk to stand across from Ancient Mai, palms curling over the decorative handle of his sword cane as he leans his weight forward. "You are aware of the news?"

"Naturally." Mai flicks a hand, pushing away the question with a flash of gold from a heavy bracelet Justin has not seen before. The power in the room twists around the bracelet, drawn to the shine and weight of it like gravity and Justin's gaze now that he has become aware of it, and the metal itself fairly rings with old and collected magic. It must have come from deep in her hoard, and Justin lets his lips tighten and curl at the edges; he is not the only one upset by the message, it seems. "I received my own missive before I brought you yours. Your sister has had a son."

"Margaret," Justin says, clenches his teeth and rocks on his feet to press his weight onto his cane. "Margaret cannot be _unaware_ \- "

"Of course she isn't," Mai snaps, a sharpness to her voice that makes Justin's vision focus, his gaze tracking Ancient Mai as she takes a sharp step forward and turns to pace back. "Margaret was never a stupid woman; merely reckless. Why do you think she has run so far from me? Seeking the aid of the Leanansidhe; hiding in the mortal world when Winter and her Sidhe lover no longer offered safe haven; crossing rivers and oceans and returning to lose herself in the arms of a new, mortal beau."

Justin can feel the twist of her lips echoed on his own; the heat that underlies the banality with which she speaks churning slowly in his belly. His body grows still as he sees his long-limbed, dark-haired sister in the embrace of her witless trickster of a husband. There is no future there; Margaret will know this as well as Justin does, and will return. Even the estate has noticed her absence, the years lengthening into a decade and more. There are creaks and drafts where there were none before; doors lock against the servants and windows refuse to open.

"She will come to her senses," Justin says, weighing his words with the heft of the cane under his hands. "She knows what her son is, even with what influence the father might have had. Magic is passed on through the mother, regardless; and far too much work was put into that child than can be undone by a fling with some talentless _magician_." He spreads his fingers behind him, gesturing at the note on the desk. "By this account, they are barely making a living wage. Margaret would not risk the health of her child on such a foolish matter as pride. Perhaps it will even be this that brings her back to us."

Mai draws close with short, sharp footfalls that ring against the hardwood. "You grasp the situation quickly. These tiding are hardly as poor as they seem; I am pleased that you realize this." The dim firelight catches on her bracelet as she raises her hand; her small, cool fingers reach up to press against his cheek. "It may be that this event is, in a way, even fortuitous; the father's influence, unintended though it is, will certainly bind the child more to this mortal realm than he would have been otherwise. A balancing of power that will, in the end, serve us well."

She turns her hand to run the flats of her nails across Justin's jaw; the eddies and currents of magic wrapping around her wrist brush against Justin's neck as he swallows. "The child will need a proper upbringing, of course. He will need to be brought home, safe with his mother into our waiting embrace. Can I trust you to do this, Justin? You know how important this babe is to our greater plans. You will bring him home; bring his mother back to me, and remind her of the promises she has made. Her debts are unpaid, Justin, and her works have already been wrought. This mortal man will not steal her from me for long, nor the future from our plans."

The skin on Mai's face twists, red shining deep in her eyes, Justin closes his own at the smell of smoke. "Of course, Ancient," he says. Mai presses her lips against the hollow of his throat, and Justin keeps his eyes shut until she draws away, the coolness of the room startling on his body where she had pressed close. There is a flash of heat behind of him, and he turns to watch the paper crumble into ash, keeping his gaze on it until he hears the study door open and shut, and her footsteps fall away.

He breathes out and twists his wrist, flicking the closed curtains open, and the light from the hall skylight spills into the room again. The drake's ambitions are limited by her nature, and Justin knows the boy will do no good if kept as Mai wishes, hoarded away with his mother until the necessary time. The boy is a blank slate, decades of work and planning given shape with ten small fingers and toes, and he will need the proper guidance to reach his full potential.

He will start with the father, Justin decides. The man is poor and mortal, no doubt newly aware of the sudden pressure of years and responsibility in the face of a wizard wife and son, and will be made to see reason. And, if he will not, Margaret certainly will, with the weight of her child and her accounts heavy in her arms. She had left much work half-done when she ran, and Justin picked up the pieces as he was able, but he will not incur her debts. Justin touches his fingers to where Mai's lips had brushed his skin; the flesh there is hot, raised, and he adjusts the collar of his shirt to cover it. This is, perhaps, the first thing he will return to his sister.


End file.
